Zelink Week 2017
by SapphireOcean
Summary: Four ficlets written for Zelink Week 2017. [Complete]
1. The Beat of Your Heart

My first time writing Zelink, even though they've been a true OTP since before I ever heard of fanfic. I loved doing it; hopefully the captive plotbunnies in my fanfic file will grow big and strong so I can write more~ Chapters are titled after that day's theme, because I am unoriginal. ;)

This first one is multigame and partly inspired by art from the amazing Tsukuyomi land, which you can view on my tumblr ver. and through a link in the AO3 ver. Sadly, they're no longer on Tumblr. I credited them for the art on my writeblog reblog, which unfortunately is the best I can do...

* * *

_1_

She runs to him, to his body crumpled on the ground. His mortal spirit is leaving him, or has already left; she can almost seeing it rising through the smoky air. Still, she crushes her head to his chest, listening past the terrible human emotions roaring through her head.

Nothing greets her but silence, hollow emptiness.

Sobs break free from her body, tears waterfalling over his armor, his tunic.

"Why," she gasps, "why," she cries, "_why_ did you take him from me?!"

She lifts her head and screams her pain to the sky.

"You had no right, _it's not right!_ I want him back!"

But such a thing is not meant to be.

Not in this lifetime.

_2_

Light from a solitary window high above the room illuminates her, asleep but not dreaming.

Then again, perhaps she does dream. Of what, he wonders, once he can wonder, after the glorious sight of her settles and lets his heart work again. The mark on his left hand tingles, close to burning.

He has no choice in this quest, but it matters not. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew he would lay down his life for her.

As he leaves the room, the nursemaid Impa at his side, he finds himself thinking:

What does her heartbeat sound like?

_3_

_"I'm still your Zelda."_

He remembers those words as he catches her, weak from countless hours of imprisonment. I'm your Link, say his arms around her, say the tears in his eyes, the pressure in his lungs. He ignores her questioning giggles as he tucks his head to her chest, eyes squeezed shut, and listens to the sound he's only now realizing is so deeply important to him.

She falls silent. Her hands fall to his hair.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Will you let me listen to yours, too?"

_4_

"Hey."

He blinks awake, eyes latching onto the pendant around his neck.

"You awake?"

He tries to answer yes but yawns instead. He thinks he hears her snicker.

"Sorry I woke you. I dunno, I…" A sigh, heavy. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. I'm allowed to do that, aren't I?"

He smiles at her sardonic tone.

"So give me some news, kiddo! Done any sightseeing while you're off saving the world?"

He cups the pendent while he talks to her. It's gentle in warmth and light, and makes him a little less lonely. Sometimes, he imagines he can hear her heartbeat through it.

_5_

It's so strange. He lies with her in the grass of Hyrule Field, talking of everything and nothing, staring up at the sky without a thought in his head.

She's his Zelda, and yet not quite. A new Zelda yet still the same. They have a true friendship, something he'd wanted since he'd met her, all those erased years ago. She knows not of his trials, and in this new peace he can forget they ever happened, once in a while.

They'll grow up together. Like they're supposed to.

"What are you thinking about?" she asks him, head on his chest, eyes shut in the sun.

He feels his steady heart under her. "You," he says, and that is true enough for now.

_6_

She remembers him, glowing even in the unnatural darkness. Feral and poised, with those blue eyes that spoke of the humanity within. "Do you miss it?" She asks it thoughtlessly, cringing inside.

He answers simply. "Part of it." He takes her hand and puts it to his chest, as he lays his hand on hers. "But to be honest, I much prefer our current situation. Your Highness."

She smiles, laughing quietly at his formal phrasing. "As do I, Sir Link. As do I."

_7_

He sits back to back with her, hands clutching the Sheikah Tablet. His heart hammers in his chest, like a bird trying to break into flight.

_Come on... Say it. Tell her she is beautiful..._

He opens his mouth, but the words refuse to form. So instead, gingerly, he leans back against her, his hair melding with hers. He wishes he could feel her heartbeat through her back.

She stares at the apple in her hand, willing her heart to calm. He's warm and gentle against her back, but all she can do is fight irrational thoughts, about how she's missed him so much even though they'd never met, about _what if I turn around and kiss him right now,_ about how he makes her want things she doesn't have the language to name.

"I think… I-I… you're beautiful."

###

The words hit her like arrows to the heart, yet her heart stutters and sputters and keeps beating. Her free hand acts on its own, reaching behind to find his arm and grip fiercely.

Is his heart beating as quickly as hers?

She knows exactly what to say, but her mouth has other plans.

"I think you are too."


	2. Discourse

Modern AU, featuring discussion of a made-up fandom that definitely has gay ladies in space.

* * *

"They're meant to be together, I swear to Din!"

She grinned, shoving his shoulder. "Ship and let ship," she said, "but I don't see why you like them so much. I think Heather has much more chemistry with Grace."

He snorted. "There's nothing wrong with shipping based on aesthetics–"

"–I'm glad we agree on that–"

"–but my ship has evidence, I tell you!"

"Do tell me again, for the hundredth time." She put her elbows on her knees and looked at him with wide-eyed anticipation. Her expression didn't waver even though he ruffled her hair.

"Just in last week's episode," he began in hushed tones. "When Vicky showed up on her AirCycle. Did you not see Heather's face?! The girl is clearly in love."

"I need more than that," she needled him. "You know how Heather's been waiting a Cycle for ages."

"A two-seater. To hold onto Vicky, catch the scent of her hair in the wind–"

"More evidence," she exclaimed, gesturing insistently. "Write fic on your own time!"

"Remember on the expedition, when Heather got sick and Vicky had to take care of her? She was grumbling the whole time but her face got soft when Heather was asleep, and she held her hand…" He looked at the sky, wiping away a pretend tear. "Thank the goddesses for blessing us with such an event."

"Hey, what happened to Vicky being oblivious? You were griping about that for weeks."

"She's either pretending, or starting to realize what Heather means to her." He clenched his fist determinedly. "They're turned a corner, I can feel it!"

If he'd been looking at her, he'd have seen her eyes grow cloudy. Her mind started to wander.

_He'll never know the real reason I don't like that ship. _

_It reminds me too much of us…_

"Vicky."

"Huh?" She snapped out of her haze and found his hand over hers.

"I've been meaning to tell you something. Victoria, I…"

His lips quirk but his eyes are sincere. _Play along,_ she gathers. Maybe she can get something across to him after all.

"What's up, Heather?" she interjected, eyeing him sideways. "You never call me that." Her lips curled into a cat-like smile, and she leaned toward him. "Have I done something… _bad?_

He swallowed, blinking rapidly, and tried to pull away but she followed him. "N-No, Vicky, that's not what I– um." His hand fluttered at his neck, fiddling with an imaginary necklace. He held his breath, then blurted, "I fell in love with you the first time I saw you!"

Her mouth dropped open. _If only, if only…_ "I was–" She sat back, huffing out a laugh. "I was covered in Reaper guts."

"I'd never seen anyone fight like that before." His voice was reverent, eyes far away. "Vicky, if I'm imagining things just tell me, but–" he took her hand in both of his. "I've seen the way you look at me sometimes. I– I think, maybe you feel something for me." He looked down, biting his lip. "Maybe it's wishful thinking, I don't–"

_To hell with it._

She leaned forward with such speed she could have knocked him off the chair, if not for grabbing his shoulders. Their lips met, and her mind whirled with this is so wrong, no it's so right–

He made a noise. She didn't pull away immediately.

She felt his hand in her hair, and that brought her back to earth. She pulled back, hand over her mouth. "Oh my goddesses I don't know why I did that Li– uh, H-Heather–"

"You do love me!" His face bore a blinding smile, there for a few seconds before he threw his arms around her. "Oh, Vicky," he breathed into her ear. "I'm so happy I could fly."

Tentatively, she put her arms around him. "S-So am I," she whispered, around the nervous lump in her throat.

Silence fell. She didn't dare move. _Please say something, please say something–_

"So." Voice soft, he cleared his throat gently, arms falling away from her. "That is how I'd do things. If I owned the series."

She nodded curtly, folding her jittery hands in her lap. "Y-You'd make a lot of fans very happy."

"So did I convince you?"

She started, looking at him quickly. "Uh, I, yes, they, um–" She sucked in a breath, attempting a haughty pose. "They… might be a sailboat ship now. You'll have to do more work to turn them into an ohtee–"

"Vicky, I can't take it any longer." The words came out in one breath and then his was kissing her, hands tight on she shoulders, and goddesses help her she was truly done for.

"Please, take me," he gasped as he pulled away, eyes wide and liquid. For several seconds the only sound was their shaking breaths as they stared at each other. Her face felt like it was in flames and Link looked redder then a tomato.

_You want me to_ what?!

_Oh, Nayru, yes._

_What the hell what the hell what the actual hell_

_Damn it Link are you really–_

"Who says Heather wouldn't top?" She was surprised her voice held steady.

"Not the first time. Heather wants to be underneath her."

_I'm going to die._

"Link!" His name came out seven syllables long. "What is happening?" She buried her face in her hands with a groan.

"I don't know and I'm really sorry but Zelda I really like you–"

"I like you too! A lot! So please stop doing those things or you're gonna kill me!"

A pause.

She gasped, snapping up to meet his eyes. "You said my name."

"I stopped acting about three minutes ago." His voice was husky and his face was still red, but he didn't break her gaze.

"I wasn't acting at all." She whined again, slumping in her seat. "This is so embarrassing."

"But. It worked." She tensed for just a moment at his hand on her knee. When she looked at him, she saw he was smiling. "I got the message loud and clear, princess."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "I told you not to call me that, dork."

"I bet Vicky's secretly a princess. Of the Orion Cluster or something."

She smirked. "Well, since we're talking about AUs," ("It's not an AU!") "I bet Heather likes baking cookies."

"That was _one time,_ and they were awful. I'm never doing it again."

"Hey, I'll help you out!" She hugged his side, wiggling. "You won't get better doing it only once."

"By helping, you mean eating them."

"That's part of it, yes."

They sat still for a few minutes, leaning into each other.

Then: "Link?"

A hum.

"What do you think our ship name would be?"


	3. The Breath of the Wild

I had nothing but fevered speculation over BotW's announcement and Princess Mononoke AU art to guide my hand when I wrote this. I'm still fond of it.

* * *

_It's not every day,_ she muses, _you fall in love with a wolf boy._

Particularly a wolf boy who's made his camp in her territory. Legs dangling over a tree branch, she watches him while he naps in the sunlight. He has a decent gash in his side, but it appears to be surface damage. If she can dress it before he turns boy again–

Wait.

_In love?! That can't be right. How long has it been…?_

Two weeks. A month, maybe. And she's never even spoken to him.

But he's hers. She knows that as much as she knows the sun comes up every morning. And she is his, as sure as breathing.

_But… love?_

Far back in her mind, she realizes the irony of being hung up on one word when, really, the thoughts she's having should be more worrisome. But they aren't even thoughts; they're _facts,_ they simply _exist._

She grips her knapsack strap a little tighter before dropping down from the tree branch and landing softly in the grass. As she makes her way over to him, she pulls out some things: a scrap of cloth, a bottle of fairy spring water. She stops a few feet away and stares.

This is the closest she's been to him, wolf or human.

_Still a deep sleeper._ She sets her knapsack aside and kneels by him. Up close, the markings on his coat are more varied than she realized. On his forehead the white fur makes an odd shape, strangely familiar.

She breaks out of her mindwanderings and uncorks the bottle. The tan cloth turns brown with the water, and she lays it against the wolf boy's side. She counts, takes a deep breath, and gentlyfirmly drags it across the fur.

He doesn't stir.

With a relieved sigh, she removes the cloth. A lot of blood for a wound so shallow. She peers closer.

_Bokoblin claws._

She pours more water over the three scrapes, pulls another cloth from her bag and pats it down. She'll rinse the other one in that stream she saw earlier.

Her stomach growls. She sighs. Has it been that long since she's eaten?

She can't calculate that, though, because suddenly the wolf boy is looking at her. But she isn't afraid, even though rationally she ought to be. No, it's his blue eyes that stop her breath.

He hasn't moved. He just stares at her, ears back slightly, eyes alert but calm.

Impulsively she puts her hand to his haunch. "You were injured. I healed it. I'm… a friend."

His head moves, almost a nod.

She finds herself smiling. "My name is Zelda."

###

Another week or so passes. They grow close, like old friends. Except…

When, human, he kisses her she's both happy and confused. He couldn't possibly have the same thoughts as she did.

"I'm sorry." But he's smiling halfway when he says it. "Only, you know what I am, and haven't turned away like everyone else…"

Yes. That's all it is.

"…And I feel like I've known you for a long time. Like we're… meant for each other. Very strange, I know—"

_Oh._

"It's not strange," she says, taking his hand. _It's the truth._ "I feel the same."

###

She can feel his distress like a physical thing, and it unleashes a part of her long forgotten.

The winds over her body fill her with power, her gaze never sharper as she searches for him.

There, in a gully. A group of Bokoblins has him surrounded.

With a feral cry she dives, talons outstretched. She dances and weaves through their weapons, sending them into confusion. She lands in a whirl of feathers and when she transforms her dagger is already in hand.

It takes adrenaline-slowed seconds to kill them all.

In the stillness, breathing harsh, she wipes her blade clean on the grass and sheathes it. Then she turns toward him. "Are you all right?"

He steps back from her. She sees his face now, bright with shock. Blood, Bokoblin and human, coats him.

"I won't hurt you," she says, perhaps impatiently, moving closer. "There's a spring just over the ridge, we need to–"

"You're like me."

"What?" It's already out of her mind, so easily she transformed. Of course he saw her. Of course he didn't know.

"You change. Just like me." He takes quick wobbly steps toward her, hand reaching. "Thank you. They caught me by surprise, I'm usually– I'm not–"

She catches him as his legs give out.

"…Sorry…"

Words have left her; she shakes her head.

To the fairy spring they go, slower than she'd like. Blessedly, he remains conscious, able to assist somewhat in the journey.

Once blood is washed away and wounds are healing, she asks him, "Were you afraid?"

"No," he answers swiftly. "Outnumbered, but not afraid."

"Of me," she says. She can't look at him.

"You?"

The rippling of the springwater sounds so loud.

His hand touches her cheek, fingers tentative, and she can no longer look away.

"Why would I ever be afraid of you?"

"I wanted to destroy them," she whispers, tears gathering. "I could have. I feel so different when I'm changed."

"Like someone else– no, something else is inside of you." His hand settles, pressing gently. "That's what I thought, for a long time. But it's still you, only another side of you. Nothing to fear."

"But when I saw you– I'd never felt so much _rage…_ I was ready to fight until nothing was left. They were hurting you. I would have killed them a thousand times over, I might have hurt you…!"

He embraces her, head tilting against hers. "No. You knew exactly what you were doing. So… precise. Movement _meant_ something." His quiet laugh warms her cheek. "And you did it for me. I can't thank you enough."

"Then don't." She pulls away, briefly, so he can see her smile.

He nods, offering his own smile. Then he pulls her back into his arms.

He would do the same for her. She knows it as sure as breathing.


	4. Hazardous

This started as an excuse to indulge a tiny headcanon about dark-skinned, black-haired Zelda and red-headed, freckles-for-days Link. Then it grew a setting and a small plot. I've not done anything about this AU since, but it's still in my plotbunny folder. Other *important* info: Zelda is 100% inspired by the Yankee type (mainly Arisa Uotani from Fruits Basket bc I _love_ her), and Link is shorter than her. Also, somehow I'm imagining this Link to have much in common with Milo Thatch.

* * *

The day They arrived was another ordinary day. Link had been preparing for that day for as long as he could remember, but it still caught him unaware, with so many ordinary days before it.

That morning he'd tacked up a new print he had bought at the weekend market, depicting a castle floating among the clouds. He had the perfect spot for it: next to a map of Ancient Hyrule. The elegant script marking landmarks and continents seemed to speak to the soft watercolors of the print; it filled his heart with wonder and his head with imaginings.

On his way to his shift at the bookstore, he caught a glimpse of someone familiar. He turned to look but saw nothing, instead stammering apologies when a man twice his size bumped into him and nearly dislodged his glasses.

He had trouble paying attention during his shift, enough that Anju ribbed him about it. "You're always so studious, what happened to you?"

"I thought I saw someone I knew." Thinking before he spoke wasn't one of his strong points.

"It wasn't Kafei, was it? He said he'd stop by this week."

He shook his head, smiling. "I don't think so."

The door jingled.

"Kafei!" Anju left her post and hurried over, all but leaping into his arms.

Link exchanged a wave with him. "Guess you were right," he said to Anju.

"About what?" asked Kafei with a grin.

"Never you mind," Anju drawled.

Their conversation faded as Link retreated into his mind again.

The mark on his left hand began to glow. One side of the triangle, pulsing faintly. He raised his hand to his disbelieving eyes. "I– I have to go."

Kafei and Anju's puzzled faces blurred as he charged past them. "Look after the shop for me, okay? I'll be right back!"

He had no way of knowing that would be a lie.

In actuality, he had no clue what he was doing or if he should _do_ anything. As he ran home, the sunlight turned steely gray. Not unusual, yet he couldn't stop the feeling of dread building inside him.

Flinging the door open, he moved like a tornado, taking things from walls and shelves and rushing downstairs to pack a herd of satchels. Each item was carefully rolled (if needed) and stored. A canteen of water and a few hardy comestibles were an afterthought, nearly forgotten.

Only when he was heading out the door did he stop and think, _What am I doing?_ He turned for a last look at his home. He couldn't explain the sense of finality hanging over him, but the mark on his hand burned a reminder.

When he stepped outside, the last vestiges of his old life blew away.

A roaring engine, a cloud of dust, the sudden glint of sun on chrome. He shielded his face, shrinking from the onslaught.

The engine noise wound down to a purr. "Hey."

He couldn't move.

"Hey, you! With the glowy hand!"

Slowly, squinting, he lowered his left arm. His glasses slipped down his nose; he pushed them back up. And forgot to breathe.

The motorcycle caught his attention only briefly; the woman astride it drew his gaze like a magnet. Goggles pushed up on her forehead, her eyes were clear bright violet, and he felt as though his very soul was exposed. Intimidation danced with enchantment in his veins. He was falling, though he stood still.

"You need to come with me," the woman said.

"I what? Wh-Why?" He still moved toward her. Warning sirens filtered through from a distance, and he realized that strange instinct had been right.

"There's no time to explain. Your life is in danger."

The red eye on her jacket called to him. As usual, he said the first thing that came to mind. "But you're a Sheikah!"

She rolled her eyes (he fell a bit further). "Good on you for noticing. You wanna take your chances with who's coming? Or will you trust me?" She held up her left hand, bearing the same mark as his with the opposite triangle alight. Then she held it out to him.

Now close enough to take her hand, he did so. His mark stopped burning, its glow dimming slightly. His heart flipped at her brief brilliant smile.

"Okay. Well, looks like you've got everything, so hop on."

"But…" He looked back, at his home, at everything and everyone he was about to leave.

"The town's been warned. I made sure of that." She glanced at his mark; he covered it with his other hand, face heating. "And if we leave now, everyone will be safer. It's you they're after."

He didn't know what to expect. But he knew he trusted this person, and that she would protect him. The feeling gave him some courage. And so he wedged behind her on the bike, hands unsure. But she took them and clasped them together around her waist. "Hang on tight. And close your eyes if you need to."

She said it without a hint of derision. So after the bookshop and the market and the crowding streets flew by, when the rushing wind brought tears to his eyes, he closed them, and tucked his face into her hair.

Despite everything, at that moment he felt as safe as he'd ever been.


End file.
